


塊

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Army AU, Cat/Human Hybrids, Dog/Human Hybrids, M/M, Nail Polish, Nonbinary Character, Other, Wingfic, gross husbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-11 18:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5636782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>new year, new drabble/meme fill dump☆ミ</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. suho/tao/sehun

**Author's Note:**

> 塊| かたまり | katamari  
> Noun | lump; mass; bundle; clump; clod; cluster
> 
> tbh. I can be found on the [tumbl](taonsil.tumblr.com) or the [tweeter](https://twitter.com/taonsil) if you want to drop by ヾ(･ェ･｡)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for theia-pallas & meowtao, sutao/sutaohun 'playful'

"You both knew this was coming. I can't believe we have to go through this _every_ time."

"But," Junmyeon starts in protest, eyes round and fluffy ears flat to his hair. Sehun squares up and makes himself just that little bit taller, towering over the puppy. The intimidation is on the verge of working until Zitao lifts his chin from Junmyeon's narrow, hunched little shoulder and does the same trick. Taller still. Sehun sighs.

"You have to think about how we feel," Zitao continues, a protective arm slipping around Junmyeon's waist. "It's against our nature."

Sehun purses his lips. Oh really. It's the first time he's tried to pull that one. "I don't care, Tao. It's bath night. Guys–"

Just saying the words sets them off again. Junmyeon darts behind Zitao, tail between his legs. Zitao bares his teeth, and Sehun's not having any of that. Zitao yowls and hisses and digs his heels into the floor as Sehun tugs hard at his forearms, but to be honest Sehun's mostly sedentary student lifestyle doesn't have much on someone who spends pretty much every moment they're not napping or eating being ferociously active.

"Ridiculous," Sehun tells them both, just a little out of breath, when he's given up. Zitao's tongue pokes out at him. "I'm running the water in, and you need to be ready in ten minutes, ok?"

Junmyeon whimpers.

"Good."

  
Every Sunday is bath night, but every Sunday comes around as though there's never been one before it. Zitao actually likes baths, once he's in them and is satisfied with the volume of bubbles and nice smelling goop being massaged into his hair and behind his ears. But Junmyeon.. Junmyeon is very much a dog.

Sehun's sure that hybrids are supposed to have these sorts of domesticities trained into them as kittens and pups, but he's not really all that well versed on how this kind of stuff works. Maybe you're supposed to teach them yourself. Junmyeon and Zitao didn't come from one of those high-end breeding parlours, though, and Sehun signed up to the rehome-a-hybrid-get-a-tax-break deal thinking they'd basically just be company around his own age and help with the rent.

That was correct in some ways. They all hang out together, take turns to cook, clean – Junmyeon even works a couple nights a week. False in most others, though.

"Tao, don't you dare–" Sehun winces, and from outside the bathroom door Junmyeon yelps in surprise at the clatter of a can to the tiled floor. "Tao! In the water, _now_."

Zitao sullenly bats another item off the counter before doing as he's told. He grumbles about humidity and his fur and how long his tail takes to dry, but Sehun has bigger (well, not literally) things to worry about and just steps around him.

"Junmyeon, Tao's already in." Sehun pushes his sleeves up over his elbows, for all the good it'll do keeping him dry once Junmyeon is involved. He steps out into the hallway and finds Junmyeon right there, ears and tail drooped. He's a faithful pup and hasn't attempted hiding – he's just got his fingers firmly around the doorframe. "You wouldn't make Tao bath all by himself, right?" Sehun encourages as he prizes Junmyeon claw by tiny, blunt claw from the paintwork. "You wouldn't take up my entire night not getting in the bath so I don't get my essay finished, _right_?"

No, Junmyeon would never do that. Not intentionally. Sehun ends up practically carrying him into the horrible steamy room, reminding them both that if they want to be independent and fit in with humans they need to at least start the week off smelling pleasant. And no, their own idea of grooming doesn't meet human standards.

  
Fitting both hybrids into the tub at once is no easy feat when Zitao's legs are such a length that he has to bend his knees to fit in alone, but there are means and ways when you have the ingenuity of a broke student. It's taken quite a few bath nights to figure out, but sitting them side by side is workable, if not comfortable. Zitao crosses his legs, paws on the edge of the tub, tail swishing and elbow digging into Junmyeon's side. Junmyeon's still looking less than pleased about this whole ordeal, his knees hugged tight to his chest.

There's more than a little water on the floor and Sehun's shirt is already sticking to him in places, but this is progress. As usual, Zitao is enjoying himself now he's actually in, and that's making the task at hand a lot easier. Apart from when he nips affectionately at Junmyeon's damp ears and the pup sends more water splashing over the sides of the tub.

"I have an essay," Sehun reminds them when Zitao swerves having the lather rinsed from his hair, not content with the barely ten seconds of working it in he got. "I need a thousand words by midnight."

"Haven't you had all week to work on it?" Junmyeon asks from behind his knees. It's not an invitation that the bath should last longer. Everything above his shoulders is still dry, his pale chest striped pink where the water level has remained.

Sehun scowls. "Haven't you had twenty four years to get used to taking a bath?"

  
Zitao stretches across Sehun's bed while he waits to fully dry out. Junmyeon towelled his ears so carefully, patting each between both hands and rubbing softly at the base where fur meets hair. He scrubbed at Zitao's hair, too, fluffing it up until he looked more like a lion than a house cat.

His tail is another matter entirely, though. It gets heavy and uncomfortable when it's wet, and Junmyeon tries to swat it away every time Zitao lets it sway over onto him. "But you're warm," Zitao mouths to him, letting his tail flop over Junmyeon's waist again. "It'll dry faster." Junmyeon pouts.

Sehun is at his desk, slowly poking at his keyboard, and neither of them want to be the first to disturb him. He already had to get changed after how Junmyeon clung to him when it was time to get out and the bathroom no longer felt suffocatingly hot but freezing cold. So Junmyeon makes no further complaints about the damp fur draped over his back, even trying to get comfortable under it. Which he can't.

Zitao dozes off easily once he's started to warm up again, and his low purrs start to lull Junmyeon, too, despite the cold soggy fur. The next time Junmyeon opens his eyes it's to Sehun leaning over them. His ears immediately perk, and Sehun shushes him.

"Smallest study break ever," he tells Junmyeon. "I'm getting stiff shoulders sitting there."

"You're working so hard," Junmyeon says sleepily. He wriggles the little bit closer to Zitao that he can, leaving just enough space for Sehun to squeeze in on the end.

That didn't sound sarcastic. Sehun's not sure Junmyeon really understands much about essays and average typing speeds, but who's he to turn down some encouragement. "Yeah, well. It'll be done in time." He brings a hand to Junmyeon's damp hair, scritching at the base of an ear. "How are you recovering from the bath?"

"Don't wanna think about it." Junmyeon shudders at the memory, but he's soon happily butting his forehead and cheekbone against Sehun's palm. Sehun's forgiven for the horrible experience, as he is most Sundays. Really it's no duty of his, at years younger than them both, to try to play parent. Junmyeon had given Zitao the best education he could – all secondhand knowledge from books donated to the shelter, and he'd thought during that time he'd prepared them for the human world. He's been studying it for as long as Sehun has been alive. But once in practice he really hadn't got a clue; they lucked out being taken in by someone so kind.

"Junmyeon– you're chewing." Sehun prizes his damp sleeve out from between Junmyeon's blunt little teeth and just gives his hair a soft pat when horrified realisation dawns. It's just a puppy thing – Sehun's helped Jongin out with new kids enough times. He's thankful Junmyeon knows not to target his fingers like Jongin's entirely non-human pups do. "Were you worrying? Don't think about unhappy things. I'm on study break, we gotta make the most of it."

For a moment Junmyeon isn't sure if he misread that invitation, because Sehun isn't kissing him back. Then Zitao's tail swats at his back and he realises why. Cats are such inquisitive creatures. Especially this one, when he suspects there's some petting happening that he's not involved in.

"Is this about rewards for bath time?" Zitao drapes over Junmyeon's shoulder and paws at Sehun's chest, still clumsy and heavy with sleep. "I was really good. Where's mine?"

Junmyeon sinks back against Zitao, giving him space to lean over and drowsily nuzzle at Sehun's jaw. Zitao's tail is practically dry now; it stops swaying to instead curl snugly around Junmyeon's wrist as he strokes along the curve. Junmyeon's own tail is thudding against the bed as it wags, but no one seems to mind.


	2. suho/chanyeol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for bisexualbaekhyun, suyeol 'goofy kiss'  
> (Sing For You mv shooting!)

The moment they're given the all clear to move to the next part of the set Junmyeon pulls his sleeve over his knuckles and presses the heel of his covered palm to his cheekbone. He's smiling, albeit while drawing little hisses of air through his teeth. Chanyeol bobs along beside him, brows furrowed, mouth tightly shut. When Junmyeon takes a left to the bathrooms Chanyeol ignores the roll call for next scene and ducks straight in after him.

There isn't really time to spare, so Junmyeon heads straight to the sinks, paying Chanyeol no mind as he fusses with making sure there's no one else here and that the door has swung fully shut before collapsing against it.

"Oh my god," Chanyeol bursts out as though he's been holding his breath since the moment he accidentally landed that punch. "Hyung, do you want to see the medic? Are you feeling ok?"

"Fine," Junmyeon says to his reflection, which looks no different to how it had done ten minutes ago. His cheekbone is throbbing, but there's thankfully no sign of a mark.

"Oh my god," Chanyeol says again. "I can't believe– I just got so into it, y'know, I couldn't help–"

"It's really fine."

"And I've been _practising_ , those work outs–"

"I feel fine." Junmyeon gives his tender cheek a last sweep with his fingertips and barely winces this time. No damage done; just a twinge. And a distressed Chanyeol.

"I don't even know my own strength! It's just a good thing it didn't fully connect or I'd have probably _broken_ something. Hyung," he says earnestly, "I'm so sorry."

When Junmyeon turns away from the mirror it's to give Chanyeol a hard look. Suddenly remembering he has sore knuckles to nurse, Chanyeol lowers his head and busies himself with the back of his hand.

 

  
Junmyeon's practically forgotten about earlier by the time they've been dropped back home and are all negotiating their way around each other's night time routines. It's only when Jongin gives him a startled look when they pass each other in the well-lit bathroom that he remembers there's probably a bruise on his cheek.

"From filming," he explains with a playful raised fist. It is actually pretty funny, but Jongin doesn't smile along with him. It's really not much of an injury though – it's clear now, but nothing that can't be covered. In the mirror Junmyeon sees that within moments of Jongin leaving the room Chanyeol is there in his place, rubbing at his nape and craning to try and get a better look at Junmyeon's reflection.

"How's your hand?" Junmyeon asks. Chanyeol's big eyes blink rapidly as he automatically cradles his knuckles, and that's as much as Junmyeon can take before he breaks into a grin. Maybe if it weren't so late he'd play on this for a little longer, but sadly they have a busy day ahead. Tension sags out of Chanyeol's shoulders as Junmyeon turns to him and he sees the lack of damage.

"So you're ok," Chanyeol says, dropping his hand back to his side. "And we can forget about it?"

Junmyeon nods. He already had, but if Chanyeol's going to push to make amends may as well let him. "Kiss," Junmyeon demands with a tap to his cheek. He's not as undignified as to push onto his toes for Chanyeol, instead tilting his head and waiting for Chanyeol to bend. Which he does, for once with no complaint.

It kind of just makes it feel sore again, having it kissed. But it's the gesture that counts, and the warm peck feels nice to chilled skin. Chanyeol must figure that, too, pressing his nose in just below the bruise until Junmyeon draws back. Chanyeol sort of has the urge to hold his face in both hands and warm him up, but Junmyeon makes a move before he does.

Chanyeol just watches on as Junmyeon lifts his hand. "And for you. You got hurt too," Junmyeon tells him with a little smile. It dawns on Chanyeol a second too late what Junmyeon's doing, and by then there's no escape. He groans with embarrassment at each tender kiss to his knuckles, but really all that does is make it worth Junmyeon's time.

But ok, if that's how this is going to work. Once his hand is free Chanyeol's arms loop loose around Junmyeon's shoulders, drawing him nearer. Junmyeon obligingly shuffles his feet between Chanyeol's to fit the angle, resting gentle hands in the front of his baggy night shirt. "Then you need another one here," Chanyeol tells Junmyeon, dropping a peck to his forehead where hours previous there had been a smear of prop blood. "And here, hyung."

Chanyeol's lips are bitter with Junmyeon's cleanser from having kissed his cheek. It's gross, and the more Junmyeon splutters and tries to break the kiss off the more persistently Chanyeol angles to continue it. He's insistent that he's not having his moment ruined, but Junmyeon's full on giggling against his mouth, and admittedly that's pretty hard to work with.


	3. suho/tao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kkt request for sutao, teacher/student  
>  ~~I butchered this prompt as I butcher all tropes m sorry;;;~~

"We could speak in English instead," Zitao offers, in English. "You mentioned before you speak it, right?"

That it takes Junmyeon such a long moment to process that should tell him that this is a bad idea. But he's _good_ at learning – if there's only one thing he is good at it's learning. Sure he's not fluent, but he can hold a conversation in English. And he really, really wants Zitao to know that he's better than the results on his homework. "Ok," he says, pointedly staring down at the unanswered questions on the worksheet between them. "So, ah.."

"So this is about the difference between causative and passive." Zitao taps at something Junmyeon can't read on the sheet. For Zitao it's a long stretch over his bent up knees to reach the coffee table. Whenever he's here Junmyeon's left with the feeling that his apartment – the furniture, his coffee mugs – is maybe a little too small. No complaints with how their thighs press from Zitao angling his long legs to fit behind the table, though.

But right, learning. "Uh. Sorry," Junmyeon says sheepishly. "Could we try that in Korean?" He asks, and in turn Zitao's head droops low. Ah.

 

"I know my Korean isn't good yet," Zitao says as he watches Junmyeon scribble in hangul below the titles on the page. With some team effort and dictionaries on both of their phones they successfully figured out what was what. Progress, but not a great sale for Zitao's tutoring skills. "I'm sorry if that makes it confusing."

Junmyeon shakes his head, straightening up from hunching over the table to give Zitao a smile. "We.. can learn," he points to Zitao, then to himself, back and forth until he's made himself grin. He's being so ridiculous about this, but it's not like learning Mandarin had been more than a casual interest. If it was for work then sure he wouldn't let a crush make him so lenient. But it's not. "Each other."

Zitao laughs at that, high pitched and so abrupt he looks as though he caught himself off guard. Junmyeon's so, so glad this isn't for work. "But I think it's maybe easier we talk in Korean than both talking bad English," Zitao says hurriedly, before more giggles can get out.

Junmyeon nods in agreement, biting back a smile. Zitao's laughter is infectious, whether it's appropriate or not. "It's just, I'm usually a lot better at learning this kind of thing," he confesses easily for the light atmosphere, but saying it immediately sobers him up again. "I mean, this must be the fifth time I've seen you, and I don't seem to be picking it up at all." Zitao frowns. Junmyeon leans back over the worksheet and stares down. "Maybe it's just not for me?"

Zitao insistently shakes his head at that suggestion. "I'm pretty bad. I'm sure you'd learn fast with someone who knows how to teach better."

Junmyeon knows if he protested it would be biased, because he enjoys Zitao's company and soft voice and solid thighs. He isn't actually learning much though, and no offence intended to Zitao, but after a few weeks to get to grips with something that is unusual for Junmyeon. "Never tried tutoring before?" It feels a little late into this set-up to be asking, but now he thinks of it Junmyeon didn't really question Baekhyun saying he knew some tall guy from class that might be of use. Especially not once he'd seen the tall guy. Hmm.

Zitao rubs at the back of his neck. "Education isn't my thing. But I wanted to help. And," he starts, then shrugs it off.

Junmyeon's more than a little curious about where that was going to go, but Zitao's found something in his bag to fiddle with and turned away. Zitao kind of seems like the type who would respond to a frank question, if Junmyeon really wanted to know, but Junmyeon's not the type to ask. He's totally the type to be unsubtle and cheesy though, so he goes with that. "We can learn from each other," he reiterates with a big smile. "I'm sure this won't be a wasted venture."

"I didn't understand that." Zitao laughs again as he pulls a blank worksheet from his bag and lays it over the half completed one, not missing that there's some irony there if not in full what it is. Junmyeon just shakes his head, dismissing it as unimportant. "You look happy, so I'll guess it was nice." Zitao beams and gives Junmyeon a gentle nudge, and Junmyeon forgets how to write his own name at the top of the sheet.


	4. tao/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon, taohun 'I didn't know you could sing'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> highschool au!

Sehun doesn't know all of the lyrics to the song they went over in band today, but he liked the rhythm a lot. He hums and improvises what he didn't pick up, which is most of it, really. But it gets clearing the room up done a lot faster, and this block of the school is practically empty at this time of day, so Sehun lets loose on the high notes. Pretty good, if he says so himself.

"Woah," a voice comes from the doorway. Sehun turns on his heel so fast he almost over balances. Ok, so he doesn't just say so himself.

"Why are you still here?" he asks accusingly, willing his heart to slow the hell back down. He's not scared of his own shadow like Zitao; just being caught off guard, apparently. "I though you left with the others."

"I waited for you," Zitao replies with a tilt of his head. They hadn't made plans, but he looks disappointed. "So we could walk together? It's dark."

"Right. Ok. I just–" Sehun gestures to the last stack of chairs to be put away. He's sure his ears must be at least a little purple with how hot they feel right now.

Zitao stuffs his hands in his pockets and jogs impatiently on his toes. "I didn't know you could sing, Huna."

"Yeah, well." Sehun rubs at the back of his neck, trying to smooth away the flush of heat. This is why he doesn't, generally, outside of the shower. He can sing, as far as he can tell – it's never sounded _bad_ when he's played back recordings. It's just that when your social circle revolves around band, so can everyone else. "I'm pretty great at keeping time, too, though. You'd all be lost without me counting you in."

"And playing that one note to get us in tune," Zitao adds. He's never touched the piano himself, and his Korean doesn't extend to sarcasm yet. Sehun's not sure if he's touched. "I didn't think you even liked coming here."

Sehun shrugs. Admittedly he'd only signed up because everyone else had, and he didn't want to be the only one of their circle left out. That's why he's delegated odd jobs, because he's just there so he can at least be a loser in a group of losers than a loser who walked home alone at 4:30pm. That's fair. "I just sing sometimes. It's not like I wanna do it for serious."

Zitao puffs up in that way he has, like an annoyed little bird. "But you're good! You could have at least told me."

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Sehun hopes making a move for the door will bring this conversation to a quicker end. "Why would I tell you that I sing in the shower like everyone else does."

Zitao's quick to chase after him, slotting his arms around Sehun's waist when he catches up and effectively anchoring him to the spot. "I've been your boyfriend for–"

"We're not dating."

"–like seven years and you never thought to–"

"You transferred in a year and a half ago. Tao, it's not a big deal." Sehun shrugs again, this time aiming for Zitao's chin with his shoulder. "It's just a thing. I don't want to sing in front of people."

"What about for me?" Zitao presses, clinging more persistently the more Sehun tries to shake him off. "Sing for me. Or are you saying I'm just people?"

"I don't want to sing," Sehun evades. Of course Zitao isn't, but like hell he's going to tell him how important he is and then serenade him. That'd be really gay. And Sehun's not even got a song prepared for gayness on that scale.

With a great huff Zitao drops from Sehun's back, straightens himself and his bag and his puffy winter coat, and firmly loops their arms together. "I'm coming home with you," he tells Sehun, "And I'm not leaving until you sing."

"You're gonna be there a long time," Sehun says, and Zitao wiggles happily at his side.

 


	5. baekhyun/suho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked for nailpainting headcanons and one accidentally grew into a whole drabble(´Д⊂)

“Personally,” Baekhyun says as he shoos Junmyeon into Chanyeol’s desk chair, “I don’t think yellow is going to suit you. But,” he continues when Junmyeon’s lower lip draws down at that, “Also personally, I’m pretty sure it’ll look adorable anyway.”

“Adorable,” Junmyeon repeats doubtfully. This chair is adjusted for Chanyeol’s height; his toes barely reach the floor.

Baekhyun sits on the edge of the bed and gestures for Junmyeon to scoot the chair nearer. Then he takes out the small nail polish bottle from his hoodie pocket, holding it by the lid and tapping the base against his palm. Sunshine yellow. Egg yolk, maybe. “Very. Give me a foot.”

Junmyeon raises his left leg and Baekhyun meets him halfway, gripping his ankle and pulling Junmyeon’s foot up so his heel can rest on Baekhyun’s thigh. He’s been padding around barefoot since his shower and it’s cold, so Baekhyun just holds it for a moment.

“Let’s hope we don’t have some surprise reason to get our feet out tomorrow.”

“Don’t.” Junmyeon groans in good humour, looking very small and distinctly pouty since he’s slid down in the chair to stretch out his leg. He’s still pretty dubious about how adorable his feet can really get, considering what they’re put through every day and with Baekhyun’s hands so small and delicate in comparison. “I’ll take it off later anyway,” he says, then looks like he regrets it. “I don’t mean that you’re wasting your time. Just..”

Baekhyun doesn’t need to say anything to get across that Junmyeon should maybe just sit back and enjoy. Junmyeon sinks down just a little further, resting his chin on his hand and covering half of his face with a sleeve in the process while he watches Baekhyun uncap the bottle. Sunflower yellow, he’d thought.

The bottle is placed on the nightstand so Baekhyun can hold Junmyeon’s heel in one hand and the brush in the other. “You’re going to be really cute, even if it’s only for a few hours,” Baekhyun tells Junmyeon as he runs the brush against the rim of the bottle so it’s not overloaded. Junmyeon’s watching him when he looks back up, so he smiles. “It’s fine to want to be cute sometimes.”

“I’m cute most of the time,” Junmyeon argues, pointing his fingers up into bunny ears, and if this were about something else Baekhyun might retaliate. Instead he just tugs Junmyeon’s foot more securely into his lap, not even sharply enough to make him slip in the chair, because he’s just being so nice today. “I’ll keep still,” Junmyeon says, and his fingers draw back up inside his sleeves.

One coat of the polish just makes Junmyeon’s little toe look kind of like the nail needs medical attention. A second makes the colour really come through, and Baekhyun.. he’s got nothing against what makes Junmyeon happy, seeing as no one else is going to see it. “If I ask why you got corn yellow, is the answer going to be something nerdy?”

Junmyeon’s gaze drifts up from his foot to Baekhyun and quickly back down again. “It was just what was convenient to get.”

Mmm. “A true diplomat.” Baekhyun grins, leaning over to recoat the brush.

 

Baekhyun could do a full set of nails with his eyes closed, probably, but as this is Junmyeon’s treat he lets it drag on. Close to ten minutes passes before he’s satisfied with his work and gives Junmyeon’s shin a pat, returning his leg to him. His thighs are protesting a little to having had heels digging into them for so long, so he rubs at them after screwing the cap back on the bottle.

Junmyeon manages to get back up right in the chair again, his feet carefully rested on the legs. He looks pink and dozy, and Baekhyun gets how nice that feeling is. Nail painting is pretty therapeutic – if anything that’s why he’s good at it, rather than because he likes the look. It’s not like it’s ever really appropriate to wear anything more than a little gloss, if that, while they’re working, so this is just something of a hobby.

“So am I done?” Junmyeon asks. Since Baekhyun last looked he’s started swinging his feet a little in hope of it speeding up drying.

“Almost.” If they get any bright yellow smudges on either Chanyeol’s workspace or Kyungsoo’s bed it won’t be good. And Junmyeon’s not the greatest at not creating mess wherever he goes, so maybe extra caution here. “Now you keep very still. For like twenty minutes.”

If a little sullenly, Junmyeon nods. Baekhyun figures he probably just wants to leave and be cute by himself, and that’s why he looks so restless for the following few minutes while Baekhyun reads the back of the bottle and then checks his phone. He’s not really sure why he’s even staying to supervise literally watching paint dry, but then Junmyeon fidgets to get his attention.

“Could I do yours? Make the wait less boring. I’ve never..” Junmyeon shrugs. Baekhyun’s tongue is getting a little itchy from not being given free reign to run off at it’s usual speed, but of all the things he could say to that, he just nods. The implication is all there that Junmyeon just wants to try his hand at it because he’s not had the chance before, and sure, why not. They can go with that.

 

Junmyeon makes a painstakingly diligent job of it, giving each of Baekhyun’s nails three slow, meticulously drawn strips of polish to cover. He’s absolutely terrible at it, too, but the polish setting Baekhyun’s skin hard around the edges of his nails isn’t going to kill him, so whatever. This is still part of Junmyeon’s treat; Baekhyun could be doing far worse things than getting an impromptu pampering session.


	6. tao/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for bisexualbaekhyun - long distance taohun 'wait.. is that my shirt?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> girl!tao/nb sehun☆ミ  
> (the original post used emoji, which don't display on here, so there's a description in brackets where they should be lol)

It makes Sehun feel a little lonelier sifting through the pouch of makeup Zitao always leaves here. She says she can’t wear anything that glittery at work, so there’s no point cramming it into her bag just to bring it back again for the weekends. She can be as glittery as she likes then, from Friday night around until Sunday evening.

Usually tiredness and loneliness start to shift the priorities they set earlier in the week, though, and Zitao arrives back for their two(ish) days together wanting to spend most, if not all of it, just on Sehun in some capacity. It’s already Thursday though, so not long.

The eyeliner Sehun eventually digs out from the bottom is one of Zitao’s more expensive pen ones. That’s good – it’s been a couple months since Sehun’s even practised, and those brushes are impossible. It’s twenty minutes until Sehun has to leave for class; that should be more than enough.

Setting up on the floor in front of their mirror with the makeup pouch, iPod on and eyeliner pen in hand, Sehun clips their hair up out of their eyes and realises there’s only one thing missing. 

[hey] Sehun taps out, phone balanced on their thigh. [u busy? I want compliments]

[zzz] Zitao replies. [not busy, still on the train. what u doing?✨]

[I feel makeup today(lipstick) what colour goes w my hair]

[what colour is ur hair??]

The container had said sky blue, but the cheap lightening kit Sehun used gave them a shock of lime instead. Three weeks ago, at least. It’s washed out to a pale mix of grass green and turquoise, and Sehun’s not all that unhappy with how much of a range they got from one purchase. 

[its different already to last time u saw it] Sehun decides after leaning closer to the mirror to inspect a strand before tucking it back behind their ear. Definitely greener than when Zitao was here last Sunday.

Zitao responds with two entire rows of hearts to the photo Sehun sends, just of the top of their head with a peace sign thrown up at the back. She says just use grey, though, and black and the silvery glitter she had to leave behind.

[just with ur finger!! if u use a brush its messy]

Sehun tilts their head to read the notification and snorts. There’s no brushes or sponges, so that was a given anyway. 

[maybe u coukf do it for me friday night when urhere] Sehun types with their ring finger, the only one not dabbed in powder. The message shows as read, but by the time Sehun’s ready to tackle the eyeliner pen there’s still no response. Zitao’s problem is generally too many words than not having any, but Sehun knows she’d have let them know if she’d had to go.

[dont have to go anywhere tho, we can stay home and take selfies :3c]

Sehun’s message bumps up a few seconds later. Sehun glances out of the corner of their eye, not daring to move from the position they’ve found to hold the pen steady. There’s a cat sticker with a big, blushing grin. Sehun would smile if that weren’t a highly dangerous thing to do with just applied eyeliner.

Sehun’s reflection looks back a little unevenly with one eye winged and the other not, but they’re pretty pleased. Now to try and get the other one exactly the same.

It’s only when Sehun’s phone buzzes three times in quick succession that they realise they’ve been holding their breath, because it all huffs out and fogs the mirror. It’s the fourth that nearly vibrates their phone right off the edge of their thigh, and alright, alright, it’s not like Sehun’s in the middle of a very precise art or anything.

[hows the makeup??]  
[I look so boring]  
[hunhun am I ugly]

The photo underneath is almost as much hair as it is Zitao’s face, taken at an angle so her eyes are far too big and her nose fills the centre of the screen. It’s only two more days, so it shouldn’t make Sehun pout as much as it does. But Zitao is hours away, and Sehun wants to annoy her in person right now.

[is that my shirt? (ghost)] Sehun asks, turns away to add a few more strokes to even out their right eyelid, then caps the pen and continues [and yeah u look rly ugly today]  
[0/10]

Either Zitao’s signal’s cut out or she’s switched to another app. The messages pop up unread and stay that way while Sehun contemplates and thinks better of mascara, adds a swipe of something sticky and plum coloured to their lips, and then shuts their iPod off. This all feels a little less fun without Zitao technically, if not physically, there with them, and time is getting on anyway, so Sehun doesn’t hang around for long styling their hair.

With their glasses on Sehun’s miraculously even eyeliner doesn’t show up all that well when they pause just outside the door to take a selfie for Zitao, so they take a second with the frames slipped down the bridge of their nose. And a third, with their phone held at arms length so Zitao can see a little of their home in the background. And now they really have to get going.

Zitao manages to time her response just to when Sehun is about to switch their phone to silent. Their thumb is hovering over the button as a notification drops down.

[um!! is that MY shirt tho(ghost)(ghost)(ghost)]

[class gtg :3c] Sehun replies, and Zitao smashes back a long string of hearts before they lock their phone.


	7. suho/tao/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for kissy kitty anon, sutaohun 'finding them in your clothes, washing each other's hair, adjusting each others' accessories'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s more seho than sutaohun, and I’m sorry I didn’t get as far as the actual scene with accessory adjusting ; ; I’m running out of time with projects;; but! set in the same ‘verse as [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5636782/chapters/12981097)!

Sehun’s still reading from his phone when he gets in, toeing out of one shoe, kicking off the other, and stepping straight into a puddle of water. Peering around the screen, he finds there are quite a few puddles. A trail, it could probably be described as, if Sehun was feeling accusing.

Sehun pockets his phone and tugs off his wet sock. “Guys?” He calls. “Has everything been ok while I was out?”

No reply from either hybrid is a bad sign. There’s a little trail (definitely a trail) of water all the way down the hall, and _a lot_ spreading out from the bathroom door. Sehun pokes his head around to inspect the damage, and.. yeah, damage is definitely the word. Sehun ventures one step in around the puddle, sees the bottle of dog shampoo squeezed flat. Most of its contents are floating on the surface of a murky half-tubful of water, and he decides the best thing to do right now is forget about that and locate the (presumably very clean) puppy.

“Is someone going to explain to me why the bathroom looks like an elephant has been in it?” Sehun glances from room to room for any sign of his furry roommates as he pads along beside the incriminating drips of water. It doesn’t make any sense that they would have been in there without him – Zitao gets grouchy about bath night every single time, and just the word ‘bath’ strikes Junmyeon down with terror.

If there’s one thing Junmyeon hates more than anything it’s water, baths, and products that strip away scents he’s accustomed to. And that’s probably why when Sehun finds him curled up on the bed he looks very sorry for himself. And very, very clean.

“What,” Sehun starts, but Junmyeon startles so much at the sound of his voice he bites it back. Poor pup is trembling, but Sehun would guess that’s most likely because his hair is still almost dripping wet. “Are you ok?” Sehun tries instead, dropping his wet sock on the laundry pile and hopping to remove the other.

Junmyeon’s wearing a hoodie that’s definitely Sehun’s, and he just withdraws even further into it, leaving empty cuffs for Sehun to hold instead of his paws.

Sehun sits beside him and reaches for an empty sleeve. “Where’s Tao?” He asks, carefully wiggling his fingers inside a cuff and still not finding how far up Junmyeon’s paw has disappeared to.

Junmyeon’s tail gives a limp little wag. He’s still happy to have Sehun home, despite everything else. “He went out. To buy more of the stuff for my hair.”

Sehun’s brows raise in alarm. If Junmyeon uses any more of that his puppy ears might start looking more like a mane. “To replace.. Why exactly is the entire container empty? You only need to use a small amount at a time.”

Junmyeon’s looking at him like they’re having two different conversations, and Sehun considers that Zitao’s idea of one serving of meat is enough to clear them out for half a week. Hybrids probably don’t really have many opportunities to learn about weights and proportions. 

“You always say it’s important we’re clean when we’re going to be around humans,” Junmyeon says, “And I have work, so, we thought we could save you time. Tao said he knew how to do it, but then--"

It pulls Sehun's hands a little as Junmyeon gestures with his paws still hidden in the sleeves, stretching them out. Sehun waits, but all Junmyeon seems to do is deflate deeper into the hoodie.

"It was more difficult than it looks when you do it." Junmyeon's pouting, and all the while he's not having to deal with it Sehun can't be all that mad about the mess.

"Yeah?" he smiles, swinging Junmyeon's arms a little. "Well, that's why I'm the expert at it."

Destruction of property and good money wasted on products aside, Sehun doesn’t have the heart to do anything but bundle the pup up in his arms. The hoodie feels damp over Junmyeon’s back under Sehun’s hands, and when he nuzzles in at Sehun’s jaw the neck of it is soaked through and slimy against Sehun’s collarbone. Sehun pets at the only part of Junmyeon that’s marginally dry, which is the back of his neck. It’s cold and a bit clammy, but.. oh. And bare. 

"Where’s your collar, Junmyeon?” 

At least they remembered that those need to come off before they go in water. Sehun thumbs at the notch at the top of Junmyeon’s spine, and Junmyeon fumbles with his sleeves to fish the collar out of the deep pocket. 

“I can put it back on for you,” Sehun offers, but Junmyeon was already pushing it into his hand.


	8. Kyungsoo/Sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon, sesoo hair washing (highschool au)  
> (mobile post, sorry if there's any issue with the formatting ;;)

Washing Sehun's hair is no easy task when you can barely reach to tug his ear and say how stupid he's been, let alone try to reach the top of his head. But this is the task Kyungsoo is faced with, at 9:30 on a school night, because Sehun is (somehow, for some reason) his best friend. 

"Good thing your parents are away," Sehun says as he shrugs off his jacket. "Or I'd be dead."

Kyungsoo is doing his best to look unimpressed, but Sehun's still got the giggles over this entire situation, and Kyungsoo's sternest expression is only making him laugh about the whole thing more. "Because I'm responsible enough to be left on my own," he points out. Sehun turns for the stairs, and Kyungsoo quickly redirects him to the kitchen. "If we stained the bathroom then I'd be dead too."

"Right," Sehun agrees. "What about towels though?"

Shit. That's a good point. Kyungsoo has his glasses on but narrows his eyes at Sehun like he hasn't. Sehun's beanie is still firm on his head, so what colour they're dealing with here Kyungsoo has yet to discover. "We can use your shirt," Kyungsoo decides. Sehun gapes. Looks like he's finally grasped the severity of the situation.

-

Sehun's shirt is pale grey, and his hair turns out to be too many colours for Kyungsoo to bear counting.

"It's only sprayed on." Sehun pouts, shirtless and shivering in the middle of the kitchen. He's not a complete idiot, though Kyungsoo's eyebrows are doing a thing that says he feels otherwise. 

After a long moment of reviewing the time, the amount of colour in Sehun's hair, and how much he really cares if Sehun gets expelled, Kyungsoo heaves a sigh. Sehun looks hopeful. "I'll get shampoo," Kyungsoo says. "Make your hair wet. Do not get a single drop of colour anywhere but in the basin." The 'or I'll murder you and no one will find the body' goes very much implied. 

-

"I can't believe you let Tao and Chanyeol do this to you in the middle of a school week."

"At least they're washing theirs out themselves," Sehun offers, then yelps when Kyungsoo's little fingers dig into his hair. 

Kyungsoo scrubs hard. He absolutely can believe it; it's more himself that the disbelief is for. Getting involved in their games is something he flatly refuses to take part in, but somehow he always seems to end up implicated. Generally it's the clean up afterwards, or the thinking up decent excuses to feed to parents and teachers, or that one time Zitao jammed a safety pin through Chanyeol's earlobe and Kyungsoo was the only one pragmatic enough to pull it back out. 

"Hyung," Sehun whines pitifully. His back is starting to get stiff from how bent up he is to make reaching the top of his head possible, and he wasn't all that warm before discovering that Kyungsoo's idea of comfortably hot water is barely tepid. Kyungsoo is gentle too, though, supporting Sehun's head and shielding his eyes from the water. Sehun wiggles his hips a little; regretfully both of Kyungsoo's hands are too occupied to take advantage.

Kyungsoo is actually pretty concerned for them, because the lather rising between his fingers is green and purple--pink? and blue, and he'd very much like to attend school tomorrow with his fingers and nails their usual colour. Still, he agreed to help, so that's what he does, thoroughly working through Sehun's hair in sections and making him splutter each time he turns the tap and rinses.

"If you're going to get yourself into these messes," Kyungsoo chides. Still rubs a thumb behind Sehun's ear, and that has nothing to do with getting him clean and everything to do with how Sehun relaxes his spine in response. Maybe Kyungsoo goes a little too easy on him, and that's why Sehun's always managing to wheedle favours out of him. He's very blunt about Kyungsoo being his most favourite hyung, but, anyway.

-

Four large palmfuls of shampoo later and the water finally runs clear. Sehun keeps his eyes shut while Kyungsoo rubs his hair dry with the poor discarded gym shirt, hands braced on his knees to bend down. "So gentle, hyung," he says, grimacing as water flecks onto his bare shoulders. Kyungsoo hasn't said anything about the patchy design newly poked into his waist, but he doesn't think for a moment that he hasn't noticed. "Over summer will you let us do yours? We thought red."

Hmm. Kyungsoo pulls Sehun down just a little more to reach the very back of his head. "Like dark red? Or strawberry red?" Or red like the tips of Sehun's ears. 

"Dunno. Just red, hyung."

Rather than letting Sehun know he is actually entertaining that thought, Kyungsoo flips the shirt and gives him a last rub over with the dry side, leaving his hair in a tangle of spikes. "At least you won't drip on anything now." Kyungsoo throws the damp shirt over Sehun's shoulder. He pushes up onto his toes and doesn't lift his glasses, so when he presses a kiss to Sehun's forehead it's not too surprising that he ends up with specks of water across the left lens. "You are nothing but trouble, Oh Sehun."

Sehun looks delighted to hear it. "You like trouble if you don't get the blame. That's why I'm your favourite, right?" He grins at Kyungsoo, infuriatingly sweet and very close to the truth.


	9. suho/chanyeol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon, suyeol spine kisses  
> (another mobile post, sorry ;;)

Chanyeol's wings are the colours he'd always hoped for -- dark reds and oranges, almost black at the tips. His mother hadn't been pleased with the yellow splotches around his alula feathers, ruining the symmetry, like he'd somehow grown them that way on purpose. They suit him just fine. Wide and bright and.. definitely no bigger than they were yesterday. 

They're new, it takes time -- that's what everyone says. Except his sister's seemed to grow an inch a day, and Sehun's already knocking things clean off surfaces with his. Chanyeol laughed off the jokes when he had total faith that his wings would match his enthusiasm for them arriving, but it's been /weeks/. 

He twists to get a better look at where they're sprouted, as though this time it won't be disappointing. Considering he has to view them from his back in a mirror because they're still too small to extend out beyond his shoulders.. Nope. He's still a birb. 

"If you don't flex them before bed they won't grow," Junmyeon pipes up as Chanyeol moves to pull on the shirt he'd planned to sleep in. 

Chanyeol balls the shirt up in his hands. Junmyeon had looked misleadingly asleep when Chanyeol got back to their room. "You know that's just a thing moms say."

"Maybe. But I do know if you don't flex them they'll get stiff, and it might inhibit their use later."

Chanyeol huffs as Junmyeon beckons him over. He still goes, pushing Junmyeon's legs out of the way so he can sit on the small bed. "And that's just what blogs read by moms say." Because no offence, but Junmyeon's not even going to grow any himself. All this research into care and maintenance and supplements for the members is nice and all, but it's not like he knows best. (He kind of does; Chanyeol's been relying on nature and willpower so far. He doesn't know much about the what and why of sprouting wings, he just wants his to /grow/, god, please.)

As it happens Chanyeol has quite an aversion to flexing them. Well, it feels really good to spread his wings and shake out the stiffness of keeping them bound and cramped under his clothes. With his full wingspan about the same as a pigeon, Chanyeol on principle does not like flexing. 

Junmyeon is a lot more concerned with his wellbeing than his pride, though. Not that he doesn't understand, but it's only the two of them, and if Junmyeon could deal with Jongin's teething then he's hardly fazed by some smaller than average wings. "Turn around," Junmyeon says, hauling himself up by his elbows. He had been kind of asleep until Chanyeol started stomping around by the mirror, but that's ok. Wings, tails, midnight transformations.. whatever it is, he's always on call to help. "I'll do it. It'll take twenty seconds, you won't even notice."

Sighing, Chanyeol turns, drawing his feet up onto the bed. "If you call them flexercises again I'm swapping rooms."

Junmyeon's hand presses firm and steady between Chanyeol's shoulder blades, small against Chanyeol's broad back, the same size as his folded wings. "Don't you think the term would catch on?" Junmyeon sounds like he's smiling. Of course he is; he's been proud of coining it for four weeks. 

It's been four weeks already, why is he still basically a sparrow. "No. And don't try to make it."

Grouchy and warm-faced as Chanyeol may be about close attention to his wings, it does feel pretty nice to have them opened up. Junmyeon doesn't spend longer than necessary on each, just making sure all the feathers get aired and that they both span out to look the same as those colour coded diagrams he keeps on his tablet.

"There." Junmyeon pats Chanyeol's shoulder. "See? Twenty seconds. If we do that every night you'll be caught up with Sehun in no time." Not that it's a competition, Junmyeon would add if this weren't Chanyeol late at night.

"Yeah. Thanks, hyung." The movement sets off and urge to use his wings, so Chanyeol gives them a little shake out and beats them. It doesn't lift him up at all, of course. Barely creates a draft, if he's honest. Chanyeol doesn't hate them, but he'll sure like them more when they're not so fluffy and cutesy. 

Junmyeon leans forward and chins at his shoulder. He doesn't hug Chanyeol from behind in case it ruffles his feathers, and Chanyeol's not particularly letting off that he's in the mood anyway. "Don't sound like that about it. They need positive thoughts if they're going to be encouraged to grow."

/That/ is definitely some mommy blogging bullshit. Chanyeol should just stuff them back inside his shirt and go to bed. But Junmyeon's idea of giving them some positive encouragement is apparently leaning in until Chanyeol's soft feathers are brushing his cheek. A soft kiss pressed right between them, because Junmyeon will love them even when Chanyeol refuses. 

Not having yet figured out much control over them than up, down, and fold, Chanyeol isn't expecting his feathers to seem to puff up somehow in response. He doesn't know how to get them to calm down again, either. Which, no, it's too late at night to deal with this. "Hyung," he grumbles, gives his wings a little flutter so they bat at Junmyeon and make him let up. 

"See, they liked that," Junmyeon grins, and fine. Fine. Ok, maybe that'll help.


	10. suho/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon, seho light angst army au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unspecified au time/place

Junmyeon’s waiting for Sehun exactly where he said he’d be, still standing smart and tall despite Sehun having dawdled up here as slowly as possible. Maybe he’d kind of been hoping Junmyeon would have better things to do and leave, if he scuffed his shoes along and was late getting here. He evidently didn’t, even with a war on.

“It looks so boring again,” Sehun says as he approaches the chain link fence. With the camp nearly entirely packed up and ready to move on the forest looks.. just like a forest again, really. As though the men had never been here, and Junmyeon.. Sehun kicks at the dirt. Junmyeon’s not even coming around to this side of the fence.

“We’re only ever stationed for a couple of months, at most.” Junmyeon looks so handsome in his full uniform. His short hair is spiked with sweat beading below the brim of his cap.

“I know,” Sehun shrugs, but he’s not sure he really did until right now.

When soldiers had first started travelling into the village from the forest it had felt the exact opposite of a reminder of the war. Their stories and items from other islands were about the only distraction from it they’d had, and it seemed harmless to enjoy it. Especially when everyone wanted a man in uniform, and Sehun was fortunate enough to get the most highly decorated of them all. Brave people like Junmyeon are the reason Sehun’s home is safe and news of war remains distant, and how he became the envy of his little village, and Sehun’s never felt so lucky in the years since conflict broke out.

Poking his fingers through the wire fence, Sehun grips and holds himself a little nearer, trying to see Junmyeon clearly through the links. He wants to ask Junmyeon to write, or to give him something to remember him by. Or to make him promise he’ll come back when this is all over, when Sehun’s older and can look after Junmyeon. Well, he knows Junmyeon would hate that. But Junmyeon’s told him what too much work on a leg that’s only his own to the knee does to his health; Sehun could just make sure those days wouldn’t leave Junmyeon short on the rent.

Junmyeon probably does this everywhere he goes, though. Junmyeon will probably marry when the war is over, and Sehun will just be here on his little island, everyone around him settled down too.

“When you’re old and talk about the war, you’d better mention this was the best place you ever stopped over at,” Sehun tells him. “And me,” his throat tightens, “Even if you forget what I look like, or you tell people I was someone else. You’d better still talk about it.”

“Sehun.” Junmyeon’s gloved fingers brush his through the fence links. “Of course I won’t forget,” he says, softer. It’s pity, and Sehun hates it as much as he’s choking on it. Junmyeon knows, but Sehun only realised it for himself a day or two ago, when Junmyeon told him it was time to leave.

Sehun rests his forehead on the cold metal. He breathes in deep and shaky and tastes pine in the back of his throat. “I never meant to feel any of this.” His chest hitches. He doesn’t want Junmyeon to think he’s stupid, that he went into this expecting anything more than some fun and comfort and a few weeks of freedom. And then the shakes start, from his shoulders down into his gripping hands, taking the strength from his knees.

Junmyeon links his fingers behind his back and waits, standing smart and tall until Sehun’s gotten his breath back enough to say goodbye.


	11. suho/chen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for lovedaebydae, suchen forehead kisses

Jongdae is very good at childcare and very bad at baking. Junmyeon has some kind of skill for making babies cry when he holds them, but his baking – good enough to bring tears to anyone’s eyes.

There’s a compromise here, and Jongdae would be out if this job on his ass if his little critters’ parents got home to find no cupcakes on activity day.

Things have been going as well as they possibly can, all considered. Junmyeon has to relay each step to Jongdae, because all three kids love Jongdae and actually want to listen to him, crowded around his side of the table to watch his unsteady hands. Jongdae sacrificed the one adult sized apron, so Junmyeon can rush back to work as soon as the baking sheets are in the oven and no one will know what the emergency he had to take an absent lunch break for was.

“Maybe you should see what Junmyeon’s doing,” Jongdae encourages the youngest when he notices her looking stumped by what needs to be in the mixing bowl. Poor Junmyeon came all the way out here and may as well just be background noise for all the kids have cared. She’s the sweetest of the three, never any trouble. Junmyeon gives her the sweetest smile he has to match.

“No.” She makes a determined move sliding her bowl further away from him, sidling right to the edge of her step to be closer to Jongdae.

“Well,” Junmyeon says, but there’s no point trying to reason with a three year old that inexplicably doesn’t even want to look at him. He gives Jongdae a dismissive little shake of his head when he pouts apologetically. It’s fine. He’s here to help Jongdae, not make tiny friends.

  
The batter mixture is drying into glue on Junmyeon’s hands, but he busies himself with stacking the emptied mixing bowls and rechecking the mixture in the paper cases while Jongdae scrubs each set of messy paws clean.

There’s a step by the sink for the two smaller kids. They climb up in turn, and Jongdae first stretches over to dispense soap, then stoops and reaches around to scrub at their tiny, floury hands. Junmyeon doesn’t let it linger when he takes a look, but he smiles fondly at the amount of laughter in the room. Baking, a back hug from Jongdae and then cake and a nap later sounds like an ideal day to him.

This is the third family Jongdae’s worked for, and Junmyeon can’t imagine he’d be better suited to anything else. He’s a natural, and he loves it. Junmyeon’s always hoped they’ll have children one day, but he’s steadily resigning himself to being the parent that’s only acknowledged when they need money or a ride.

  
Jongdae’s drying off his hands when Junmyeon comes over. He smiles sheepishly as he toes the step out of Junmyeon’s way.

“Teacher, my hands need washing too,” Junmyeon pouts, sticking them under the tap and waiting for assistance. The water comes out skin warm, and Junmyeon gets the same treatment with the soap and Jongdae’s slick hands (although Jongdae washes from the side, depriving Junmyeon of a sneaked hug. Not something Jongdae needs the kids mentioning.)

“I think they’re probably just defensive about someone new being here,” Jongdae says quietly, thumbing around the gold band on Junmyeon’s finger to get the dried mix out from under it. Jongdae doesn’t wear his to work. Being _suitable_ sucks sometimes. “Or jealous? Who’d be happy about having to share me?”

Junmyeon presses his hip into the edge of the sink to stop himself from leaning into Jongdae when he grins. Getting to see him during the day is a treat. “Or maybe it’s just my natural affinity for upsetting children.”

Jongdae laughs as he dries off his hands. “You’re unfortunately skilled at that.” The handtowel is damp after drying four pairs already, so Junmyeon declines when Jongdae offers it, instead wiping his hands on the apron.

The children are crowded around the oven, the youngest sitting to stare in through the glass. Jongdae leans his shoulder against Junmyeon’s while he folds the towel to hang back over the little ring on the wall. “I’m sorry for putting you through this, Myeonie, I just figured..” Jongdae shrugs, jogging him. Kids and baking; who knew that could not go down well. “I liked having you here even if they didn’t.”

Junmyeon shifts his weight, pushing Jongdae playfully. “It’s been fun. I haven’t made time for baking recently, it was nice t– oh.”

The peck to Junmyeon’s forehead was so brief he’d think he’d imagined it if it weren’t for Jongdae’s panicked look back into the kitchen. The coast is still clear, the kids are still absorbed in watching the cupcakes rise. Imagine getting fired because you got giddy at work and kissed the same person you’ve kissed a thousand times before, honestly.

“I guess you should be getting back to work,” Jongdae says avoidantly, because Junmyeon’s looking at him like he’s probably feeling just as stupid and gooey. Why are they like this. “Oh. You’ve got a little..” Jongdae taps his own cheek, mirroring where powder is smeared on Junmyeon’s.

“I should,” Junmyeon agrees without complaint. He wrinkles his nose as he checks his reflection in the glass panel of the cabinet beside the sink. Work would probably be a little suspicious that he hasn’t just dropped in at home to grab some files if he went back with a dusting of flour. “I’m glad I could help out.”

“I owe you my life for this, really.”

“We’re married,” Junmyeon points out, wiping his floury cheek with the hem of his apron. Whether he means favours are a given or Jongdae’s life is already signed over to him is left to interpretation – there’s a clatter, a loud gasp followed by hushed chorus of _ooh_ s, and Jongdae’s off like a shot to check it out.


	12. chen/chanyeol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon, chenyeol spin the bottle kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is it a zombie apocalypse au? nobody knows

“Remember the warehouse?” Chanyeol says over his shoulder. Jongdae didn’t offer any suggestions of his own when Chanyeol pointed out they’ve been stranded in worse conditions. The warehouse was damp but had decent strong doors, at least. That time they had to camp out in a cramped attic because the hatch was the only thing that locked was Chanyeol’s least favourite. (But then he’s one of the tallest – Jongdae probably didn’t find it all that uncomfortable.)

Jongdae gives the chain he’s been weaving through the pull handles a securing tug. “I’d rather not.” The chains rattle as he gathers them to padlock in place. “At least it taught us to carry all this shit, even if it weighs a ton.”

“Yeah.” Chanyeol’s been looping the chains from his own bag between metal shelves and the smaller door off to the side. It only leads into another empty office, but just in case. The palms of his hands feel raw, so he rubs them on his hoodie. It’s a pain having to bring all this stuff along now, especially when their medical equipment and water supplies already weigh them down. The team got split up tonight and they ended up with each other, not Kyungsoo – exactly why it’s pointless delegating.

Chanyeol’s checked his phone twice since he and Jongdae decided it best to just secure themselves in for the night, but no one’s been in touch yet. You’re busy for the first hour setting up away from base; Chanyeol hasn’t sent out an all good yet either. “This place is pretty decent,” he says, pacing out into the centre of the room. “The lights are even still working.”

Jongdae gives Chanyeol an eye roll over his shoulder. “There’s even a desk to sleep under and some books to burn if we get cold. It’s palatial.”

Really Chanyeol’s hoodie isn’t soft enough anymore for it to be doing much other than irritating his already sore skin. “It’s not the warehouse,” he shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pocket and wringing them tight.

“It’s not,” Jongdae concedes, wiping his own hands off on his jeans. The problem with the warehouse had been that it was too crowded with boxes to move around in with ease, and it was impossible to safely secure when they’d have had to spend the entire night checking behind and inside every item in there. All there is in here is basic office furnishing; unless a stray arm is lurking around behind a filing cabinet waiting for someone to choke it looks pretty safe.

“Supply check?” Chanyeol tails Jongdae over to the drawers beside the desk. If there’s anything interesting in there he wants to see at the same time. “Maybe we’ll find something useful,” he says as Jongdae rummages.

“Very useful.” Jongdae snorts, holding up an uncapped, long empty beer bottle. The neck is sticky and coated in dust, and Jongdae derails a thought about who and why before it can sink in. “I guess they had the foresight to take what they wanted to keep.”

In his pocket Chanyeol thumbs at a cut on his knuckle. “It’d be kinda funny if some of the others were like, just in the office a floor under this one, but we didn’t know, and then in the morning we’d be like–”

“Maybe you should text to let them know we’re safe,” Jongdae cuts in. “You do it, you always sound more cheerful.”

“Right.”

Jongdae tosses the bottle onto the carpeted floor and knees the drawer shut.

 

Jongdae had been thinking along the lines of smashing the bottle and making use of the shards, or pissing in it if need be. It’s actual useful function comes in the form of perking up a very sullen Chanyeol.

Junmyeon’s been in touch to let him know they all made it back to base safely. All of them. Back at base. Comfy and warm and with dinner. Chanyeol already mentioned out loud as he texted that a rescue mission after sundown when they’ve found a secure spot– it’d be ridiculous, terrible, he’d definitely refuse and tell them to turn back. But he’s still had a face like thunder since Junmyeon told him to preserve his battery and stop texting.

Jongdae watches his unbearably pouty face - more like a puffy little raincloud than a storm - for less than five minutes before he gets fed up with it. “Know any party tricks?” He swipes the bottle up, waving it at Chanyeol like a stick for a dog.

It works – Chanyeol quickly scoots closer, folding his legs and gesturing for Jongdae to set the bottle between them. “No, like,” he waves Jongdae’s hand away when he stands the bottle, instead turning it onto its side.

Huh. Ok. “Truth or dare?” Jongdae had been thinking more along the lines of getting a coin in the neck, or they could throw stuff at it. Throwing stuff at a thing is always a good past time.

Chanyeol sounds like he’s eaten gravel as he clears his throat to say, “No. The other game,” and smacks the neck of the bottle to send it spinning. It slides on the carpet and rolls, coming back around to face himself. Chewing on his lip, Chanyeol crawls and stretches to retrieve the bottle.

“We’re playing spin the bottle. Just the two of us,” Jongdae confirms, eyes steadily where Chanyeol’s would meet his if he were to look. Stranger things have happened – living the way they do now has enabled a lot of reckless, just-in-case decisions. “So how long have you been waiting to pull out an excuse like this?” Jongdae’s teasing, but even if he wasn’t it wouldn’t matter.

“I,” Chanyeol almost retaliates, catches himself, and scowls as he places the bottle back in between them. He tucks his knees in to his chest and starts to rock, and Jongdae’s going to use the bottle to hit him with if he keeps that up for long. “I just want to think about something other than hiding and being hungry.”

Jongdae takes his spin, twisting the bottle from the centre so it doesn’t roll off across the room again. “If this is one of those the world is ending, last night of your life kind of things, you know there isn’t any room in my bag for those kinds of supplies.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol groans into his sleeves. If the opportunity was there he would, to be honest, though keeping half of your senses focused on the doors in anticipation of the chains suddenly pulling taut might be a mood killer.

Jongdae’s spin lands on the filing cabinet in the corner.

 

Five minutes of crawling back and forth to collect the bottle burns Chanyeol’s knees. Jongdae sends him crashing onto his elbows one time, the carpet so cheaply sturdy it scrapes the skin even through Chanyeol’s sleeve. The second time Chanyeol feels Jongdae’s heel on his ass he hollers loud enough to derail the action and probably attract every zombie able to hear within a mile radius.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Chanyeol pulls his hood up when his next spin lands on the door. “See,” he elbows Jongdae. Jongdae lands a solid punch to his bicep in return and Chanyeol winces off to the side. It was rhetorical. “It wasn’t an excuse. I’m gonna kiss someone who’s been in a grave before you.”

“If you undo my work on those chains to go and suck face with a corpse–” Jongdae spins without even looking, but he is when the neck settles neatly at Chanyeol’s feet. _Finally_ , is all he thinks. This has been one of the worst attempts at lightening the mood he’s had to suffer through in the last 8 months of these missions. “Alright,” he waves for Chanyeol to crawl over here. It was his spin; his rules. But, “I never played this in highschool. Is there some rule about how long it lasts?”

“If you like go to another room or in a closet or something, yeah,” Chanyeol shrugs. He’s doing a good job of disappearing entirely into his hoodie now, hood up high, only his fingertips sticking out the sleeves. “Or I guess just if you play with other people, really.”

So the undead trying to claw their way into the building probably don’t count. And there’s no way Jongdae’s getting into an enclosed space with no decent reason, so he gives Chanyeol’s sleeve an impatient tug. “We had very different highschool experiences, you and I,” he says, raising an arm for Chanyeol to sidle under.

“Not my fault I was popular.” Chanyeol feels around 300x better about being here with Jongdae’s arm around him, even if this is far more grapple than hug. It’s easy to get close to the others without needing to say anything – Zitao’s a clinger, Jongin feels the cold. Sehun and Junmyeon, Baekhyun and Yixing all understand that sometimes in these circumstances the time just passes easier with a warm body. Jongdae’s always offering to be lookout and threatening Baekhyun with his taser.

“Entirely you’re fault for being so needy and having the puppy-eyes advantage. You weren’t that good looking in highschool, Park.” Jongdae pulls Chanyeol’s hood down and feels the shiver at the sudden exposure run through him.

They’ve known each other for god knows how long – it’s a fairly small community, even smaller when they were assigned bases and the town was split into numbered districts. Don’t really talk much outside of necessity, though. Maybe that’s why Jongdae seemed the safest to try this with. Too much else has been lost to risk damaging friendships and hurting feelings just because of some touch-starvation, so Chanyeol never pushes his luck. Zitao and Sehun are the only two who officially got together in all of this mess, but Chanyeol’s a little sore about it – Zitao doesn’t even _like_ intimacy and there he goes bagging someone he could kiss without needing an excuse like it was easy.

Jongdae’s the one that leans in, impatient for a prize he never asked to win. Chanyeol startles when their faces suddenly collide, and again at the sensation of lips to chapped lips. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed anyone, let alone had a first kiss with someone. It’s been a pretty long while since either of them have had the opportunity to brush their teeth, but that’s less relevant than the sharp tug of Jongdae’s hand in the back of Chanyeol’s hair. Chanyeol gasps, and though he keeps from flailing too embarrassingly to keep his balance, it leaves him completely off guard.

It’s sloppy and biting with Jongdae’s open mouth meeting Chanyeol’s, and Jongdae’s doing this _on purpose_ ; kissing Chanyeol like it’s something he needs to win at. Chanyeol’s out of fight and just letting him, because it’s been so long he honestly doesn’t care if this is something he loses at. The little thrills of pain leave Chanyeol bruised and breathless when Jongdae abruptly decides their time is up.

“Oh, man,” Chanyeol wheezes, and if he’s exaggerating how little breath Jongdae has left in him it’s to cover the sound that threatened to escape when Jongdae’s grip on his hair let up.

It’s only a little offensive that Jongdae wipes his mouth off twice. “That was an experience,” he says, not choosing his words with care, then starts scraping the flat of his tongue with his front teeth. Charming.

Chanyeol slowly licks over his lower lip, half convinced there’ll be a split and a sting, a tang of blood. There isn’t. If there had been he could have accused Jongdae of trying to turn him into bait. But there isn’t, so that leaves them needing some other conversation opener. That was kind of weird. Kind of hot, Chanyeol would venture with someone he could read better. He didn’t mind that harsh twist of his hair at all.

Taking Chanyeol’s lack of reply as his response to that, Jongdae reaches over his knee for the bottle. He gives Chanyeol a short, impatient look before making sure he sets it evenly between them.

“Your spin,” Jongdae gestures, “It’ll be hours before sunrise.”

Ah.


	13. kyungsoo/chanyeol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon - Chansoo “You look like a monkey who’s been strategically shaved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweats as usual I went off course w this and it’s ridiculously gooey bc so am I :C

“He really said that to you?”

Chanyeol lowers himself the long way down to Kyungsoo’s sunken, Kyungsoo-sized bed. “I didn’t even get as far as the interview,” he sighs, resting his elbows on his bent up knees and holding his cheeks. “I turned up, he took one look at me, and here I am.”

“At least you tried?” Kyungsoo offers, though he’s still living at home because it’s a more comfortable sized space than anything he could afford to rent, and he’s got no pressing desire to leave. Just making a good attempt doesn’t count for much when you have a lot of big plans that hinge around earning money.

Chanyeol’s left knee jogs. “I bought this fancy shirt for nothing,” he gestures to himself, and the shirt fresh out of a grocery store two pack. It’s still creased in perfect lines from being folded in the thin plastic pocket. “Just to get called a strategically shaved monkey. Unbelievable.”

  
“I wouldn’t even say it was strategic,” Kyungsoo says fondly. He can reach to tuck a long coil of hair behind Chanyeol’s ear with Chanyeol sitting. “So what next?” Chanyeol even did his hair really nice today - all little twirls of strands pinned back with care, pulled up and tied into a fluffy, gravity defying ponytail. “Look for an employer who doesn’t mind an un-strategically shaved monkey?”

For a moment Chanyeol is silent, just enjoying the soothing touches after his horrible morning. He takes a deep breath. “I’m getting it cut,” he decides. “All of it. I’ll have it like yours, and then–,” Chanyeol’s voice cracks, because he’s 17, but also because he really loves his long hair. “Then people will take me seriously. I’d have been good at that job.”

-

Kyungsoo opens the door to Chanyeol and instinctively takes half a step back to look at him. Then he takes another, to _look_ at him.

“You still have long hair?” It’s a question, because after a week of assuring Chanyeol he’s going to look incredibly handsome with short dark hair, it only makes sense that this is some kind of mistake.   
  
Chanyeol looks more sheepish than defensive. “I had it cut,” he says, and that’s not a lie. It’s more of an uneven bob now, just past his chin on the right, the other side pinned behind his ear. The back is probably tied out of the way. “And coloured! Professionally!”  
  
Hmm. Kyungsoo gives Chanyeol a long look up and down. Definitely not a man who would get his hair professionally coloured. “You did tell them it was so you’d look like a respectable human being?” If Kyungsoo stepped any closer he’d smell dog and guilt all over Chanyeol. Of course he went to Jongin’s sister. Of course he’d give her those eyes as he explained and she’d only make him look prettier. “I don’t think going from blonde to orange will help with your predicament.”

Chanyeol ignores that and bows down low to take his shoes off at the door, giving Kyungsoo a good view of what exactly has happened to his hair. It’s more silky than it’s ever been after Chanyeol’s home bleach kit, and it does look much neater, at least. Kyungsoo almost says it’s pretty, but holds it and steps past to close the door. He’s never been sure if _pretty_ is what Chanyeol’s going for, but either way he’s always achieved it.

“But yeah,” Chanyeol uses Kyungsoo’s shoulder for leverage to get back up, then just leaves him tucked under his arm. “I’ve been thinking about that and came to a decision.”

Kyungsoo leads Chanyeol down the hallway by the arm around his shoulder. “That your hair is more important than your dreams?”

“No,” Chanyeol says. Well, technically yes. “No, I decided that I need someone who likes me for who I am.”

“You might be in for a wait,” Kyungsoo replies as he nudges his bedroom door open with a foot. To get them both through the doorway they’ll have to sidle; Chanyeol doesn’t feel like he’s going to let go. “How often do you see guys that look like you earning above minimum wage?”

He means it in the least offensive way possible, but Chanyeol looks like the student he is - the kind that sleeps in til noon and a convenience store would find some reason to fire him after his first shift. There are definitely areas more likely to employ him (as papa Park is always telling him, filling his head with ideas about selling guitars to celebrities and being a roadie that mama Park can’t shake out again), but Chanyeol is too young.

“Ok, _but_ ,” Chanyeol emphasises like he’s about to make a very good point. Kyungsoo loosely folds his arms across his chest. “How often do you see guys like me,” suddenly both of Chanyeol’s arms are around Kyungsoo’s little shoulders. Kyungsoo preemptively tenses, but Chanyeol’s lips only press to his forehead. “With boyfriends like you?”

Kyungsoo often doesn’t say anything to Chanyeol just because he can’t be bothered. Chanyeol’s so close, eyes filled with more stars than Kyungsoo has thoughts in his head. Now isn’t one of those times.

“S-so I’ll wait.” Chanyeol blinks the glitter from his eyes and shrugs. He draws his arms up so his hands are just resting on Kyungsoo’s shoulders, and starts swaying, like it’s going to help drain the flush from his face. “Waiting for someone who likes me for who I am worked pretty well for me so far. Y’know?”

Kyungsoo could point out that nice as the sentiment is, it won’t help with Chanyeol’s financial situation, or that he’s an idiot, or that he’s horrendously cheesy and Kyungsoo won’t be his boyfriend much longer. “Yeah,” he says, because that’s a word he can find. Chanyeol beams, and Kyungsoo reaches up to work his fingers into his (shorter) long hair.


	14. suho/chanyeol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was an ask meme fill for the prompt 'never mind, the moments gone' from probably six months back OTL I just dug it up and finally finished it. so the timeline is set from when seho had just got back from Paris in spring♡

“This is a bad idea.”  
  
“It’s totally not.” Chanyeol’s hands are clamped firmly on Junmyeon’s shoulders, and he’s keeping him walking by weighing his upper body against him. Chanyeol’s not even trying to be subtle about this, and apparently it’s somehow not a bad idea.   
  
“Ok,” Junmyeon pats a placating hand over Chanyeol’s fingers. His grip doesn’t let up at all. “It’s just a bad time. And place.”   
  
“Nah, hyung.”   
  
It’s probably been far too long to remind Junmyeon that nowhere was ever the wrong time or place when it was Zitao whining for some privacy and attention, and it’d be too whiny on Chanyeol’s own part to bring up that Junmyeon treats Sehun similarly. Chanyeol is (comparatively) the best behaved, so he’s always at the back of the queue. How is that fair?   
  
They reach the end of the corridor and pause. The sign for the bathrooms points to the right. “No one will even notice we’re gone,” Chanyeol says, steering Junmyeon left. Bathroom stalls aren’t as safe as the individual changing rooms with the locks. “Anyway, if they do they won’t care. They can manage without us for five minutes.”   
  
At that Junmyeon’s brows rise sceptically. Chanyeol gives unskilled, albeit enthusiastic head. Five minutes will barely cover all the coughing and hushing and wiping his eyes dry. (And Junmyeon would have brought his water along for Chanyeol if he’d known that was the plan when he was called away. Chanyeol’s never really figured out how to look after himself at the same time.)   
  
The parts of the building they’ve been through so far have been totally empty, so Junmyeon scowls at how hurriedly he’s pushed past clothing rails and bundled through the door. They’d probably make a better job of this whole sneaking around thing if Chanyeol of all people wasn’t trying to orchestrate it himself.   
  
“Any reason it has to be right now?” he asks, settling against the back wall. They weren’t discussing anything all that important when Chanyeol scooted into the practice room just to grab Junmyeon and leave again, but it is kind of an inconvenience. Junmyeon’s mind is half on their schedule and half still in Paris. They’re going to see each other back home again tonight anyway, probably, if neither of them have other plans. Junmyeon’s plan was to sleep, so maybe Chanyeol’s actually being considerate, in..a roundabout kind of way.   
  
This cubicle really wasn’t designed for two people. Junmyeon leans around Chanyeol to pull and lock the door behind him, and with it closed Chanyeol has to carefully step around Junmyeon’s feet.   
  
“You know how dogs get when they’re left alone too long,” Chanyeol shrugs. He’s a puppy if he’s anything, and between Junmyeon’s boyfriends and babies that’s a pretty ok place to be.   
  
“Mm, I don’t know,” Junmyeon smiles, and tilting his head up and pushing his hair back is all just lazy flirting. This is a terrible idea, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going be a pain about how eager Chanyeol is. “I leave mine with my mother and he’s so spoiled he doesn’t notice when I visit.”   
  
“You always have to be so..” Chanyeol mutters under his breath, head down. He has to work out how to position his feet again to accommodate leaning down to kiss Junmyeon.   
  
Junmyeon doesn’t help with this in the least, but mostly because he wasn’t anticipating being kissed. Of course Chanyeol’s too affectionate to not take up thirty seconds of their five minutes with being sweet. He’s sweeter than he realises, really, and Junmyeon feels kind of bad about it.   
  
“Chanyeollie, I don’t know,” Junmyeon sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the offer, but he’s in some weird zoned out space between work-mode and jet lag. He could get off, but Chanyeol deserves more emotional input than he has readily available right now. And honestly he’s just growing out of finding anything amusing about going back sticky and uncomfortable to a room of people who know exactly what you’ve been doing. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait until we have some proper time?”   
  
“Sehunnie has had you all to himself for a whole month.”   
  
Ah. “Two weeks.”   
  
“And every time it’s been my turn you’ve been away doing something, so it’s basically been since like, last October-“   
  
Now that’s not fair. “You’ve been out of the country too,” Junmyeon points out. Chanyeol’s hand is at Junmyeon’s side, just ghosting his waist. He’s unsure if this is an argument for this actually being a good idea or just an argument. “It’s been a month and a half at the most.”   
  
Chanyeol’s eyes widen. “That’s what I’m _saying_ , hyung. It’s basically been like, the whole year so far. And you know being at home doesn’t actually guarantee any time or space.”   
  
That would be quite some time if you were a normal couple on a normal schedule, Junmyeon would agree. But that’s far from their arrangement, and it’s not like Chanyeol doesn’t have other people too. But, hmm. Right, sentiment. They both have other people, so maybe Junmyeon should take it at face value that Chanyeol’s so persistently trying to get him alone for (allegedly) five minutes.   
  
“Alright,” Junmyeon pouts. “You win.”   
  
Chanyeol beams. (Unlike Zitao) he has a better measure of when Junmyeon’s really exasperated and when it’s just playful; when he’s really pissed or just needs persuading. Junmyeon relaxes more when he’s coerced into someone else’s bad idea rather than suggesting it himself, and Chanyeol’s a great one for making a bad idea seem good.   
  
“I win?” he grins, and Junmyeon easily knees him in the thigh from the awkward angle they’re at.   
  
“Do you want to do this or not?”   
  
So Junmyeon’s letting Chanyeol handle him impatiently now, but the space is so small he can’t afford to be too careless. If Chanyeol knocks an elbow on the wall or steps on Junmyeon’s toes it’ll just give him reason to say this was a terrible idea. Well, he’s already said it like five times, but Chanyeol’s got things this far. And sure, he is clumsy and fumbling. He knows that away from this - himself, Sehun, and Zitao before - Junmyeon has his boyfriends and their scheduled hotel visits, but Junmyeon still likes him like this. It’s good in its own way.   
  
Chanyeol hasn’t been brave enough to try it - the guy thing - with anyone he’s unfamiliar with yet, so all of his efforts are saved for Junmyeon. And Junmyeon can tease all he wants that Chanyeol has a lot to learn; he’s sloppy, over eager, easily overwhelmed, always makes a mess of himself. Doesn’t change that he loves all of that enthusiasm being just for him.   
  
“Get down already.” Junmyeon’s tone has dropped soft and low. Chanyeol’s on his knees in seconds. “Only five minutes,” Junmyeon reminds him. He gets a grip on Chanyeol’s hair where it’s growing out at the back. They haven’t even started yet, though, so Junmyeon’s fingers stray to rub at the shell of his ear, and Chanyeol’s hands clamp at his hips to steady himself. “You’re a good boy.”   
  
Chanyeol is, and he’s going to remind Junmyeon that he’s good enough to take a night off for, too. But life is unfair, and Chanyeol’s still working on Junmyeon’s belt when he hears Junmyeon’s phone buzz. He flicks a glance up to him cautiously, kind of hoping he didn’t notice. Junmyeon’s frowning. Sigh.   
  
“I have to check it. You know I do, Yeollie.” Chanyeol scowls, scrunching his nose. It earns him a tap on the forehead, but Junmyeon looks apologetic. “It might be important. And we did just leave- Give me a second.”   
  
Chanyeol doesn’t let up glaring, even when Junmyeon moves his phone to his left hand so he can resume combing his fingers through Chanyeol’s thoroughly mussed hair. It’s tempting to just continue, but Junmyeon’s suddenly looking a lot like he wouldn’t appreciate teasing.   
  
Easy anxiety rises up in Chanyeol’s chest. He can’t have actually gotten them in trouble? This is hardly the worst incident to happen in the building. It wasn’t even an important conversation he pulled Junmyeon out of.   
  
“That’s a..” Junmyeon holds his phone two inches from his face. “Did they add gen 2 Pokemon while I was away?”   
  
Junmyeon’s thighs are strong, so Chanyeol hitting his forehead against one probably hurts him more. “ _Hyung_ , oh my god.” For fucks sake. Chanyeol doesn’t know whether to try and drag Junmyeon’s attention back or just leave. He could store this up in his growing collection of times Junmyeon owes him for. Junmyeon looks so shocked he does neither. “Wait, what is it? I don’t have mine running.”   
  
Junmyeon turns the screen gingerly, like he’s scared it’ll go out of range. “A Quilava? There’s really a second evolution starter in the wild?” The wild being their building. If Junmyeon was on the capture screen the Pokemon would be stamping its little feet on Chanyeol’s head.   
  
“Oh shit. In here?” Chanyeol is up off his knees faster than he got down on them. He bumps himself in three places on the narrow walls fishing his phone out of his back pocket. “No way! I kept getting the silhouette all week but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Hyung, wait,” he knocks Junmyeon’s hand, throwing off his aim with the ball. “I wanna catch it first.” If he can’t have dick he should totally be given first catch in compensation.   
  
“You didn’t even tell me they’d added gen 2.” Junmyeon leans his head to the side, just resting on Chanyeol’s shoulder. Chanyeol doesn’t look away from the loading screen.   
  
“You were too busy playing tourist with Sehunnie. Didn’t think you’d be interested.”   
  
Right. Of course. Junmyeon rolls his eyes. Chanyeol isn’t a jealous person, but he can work himself up into a pretty good sulk. Chanyeol lifts his hand to get the Pokemon on screen and nudges Junmyeon away in the process, and he doesn’t protest.   
  
It is a second evolution, but it’s a disappointingly low level and an easy catch. The remainder of their allotted five minutes is used up by Chanyeol explaining the new berry system and showing off the sixteen Furrets he’s caught just this week. He taps through to show Junmyeon the new outfit options, but Junmyeon’s hand gently closes around his wrist, lowering his phone.   
  
“Hey,” Junmyeon leans into Chanyeol’s line of vision. “I did miss you.”   
  
Chanyeol shrugs. “I know. You texted the group chat literally every ten minutes. Jongdae muted it after a day, you know?”   
  
“I missed you,” Junmyeon reiterates. His tone doesn’t change, but he raises his brows, daring Chanyeol to tell him he doesn’t mean it. Chanyeol focuses on his phone. “This is just.. we’re not teenagers, Yeollie. We don’t have to sneak around looking for doors with a lock.”   
  
Chanyeol pouts. “Just didn’t want to wait any longer. Even longer.” His voice has lost its sullen edge again already. He loves a good sulk, but he’s weak when he gets attention. Without warning Junmyeon’s hand squeezes firm and warm around his thigh, and he jolts noisily against the wall. Ok ok.   
  
“I mean, if it’s busy at home you could always take me to your studio. Or I can arrange something.” Junmyeon’s saying one thing - plans for later, maybe, focusing on words and not his hand is very..not working - but totally implying another. Seeing as they _are_ behind a locked door it seems a waste to not take the opportunity.   
  
“Leader-“ It’s mostly a gasp, and Junmyeon can’t resist stepping into Chanyeol’s space, adding more pressure. “Five more minutes?”   
  
“Just five,” Junmyeon agrees. Now he’s got Chanyeol against the wall they can’t go ahead with the original plan, but he can probably come up with something..   
  
In Chanyeol’s hand and Junmyeon’s pocket their phones buzz simultaneously. It’s only a Hoppip, and Chanyeol responds to being touched like they may as well actually still be teenagers, but he doesn’t need to ask to know which task Junmyeon is more interested in.   
  
The intent is already gone from Junmyeon’s eyes, and now they’re all wide and hopeful. He takes Chanyeol’s heavy sigh as a prompt to ask: “..would you mind?”   
  
Chanyeol’s dick minds a whole lot, and Junmyeon easing away to get back into his own small space in the cubicle manages to rub him all the wrong ways and make it worse. But while Chanyeol reckoned he could distract Junmyeon from work, he already knows its a losing battle with this.   
  
“I think the moment has probably gone anyway,” he says. Junmyeon blinks up at him hopefully. He’s so infuriatingly cute, it’s not helping how dejected Chanyeol feels at all. “Go,” Chanyeol clarifies, making a shooing motion, “Go catch it, I’ve found like ten second gens just on this floor of the building.”   
  
Junmyeon yanks the lock open so hard it makes more noise than Chanyeol did when he elbowed the wall. _Ten_ second gens. “Ah, but..” Junmyeon lingers at the door. “I promise, first free slot we both have and we can plan a proper date.”   
  
“Like I even care that much,” Chanyeol shoos him again. How desperate does Junmyeon think he is for dick and cuddles?  (Probably as much as he is. Like, enough to drag him out of a meeting and into a closet.)   
  
Junmyeon stretches up to peck his cheek before darting off back out into the corridor in search of the Hoppip. Chanyeol decides to wait the extra five minutes out here, so his ears won’t be as tellingly red when he goes back.


	15. tao/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for anon, ‘I have you shoved against the wall but now I can’t stop looking at your mouth.’
> 
> (rival actors au IE they’re not rly rivals TAO IS JUST RIDICULOUS AND CANT READ THE SIGNS also I flipped the prompt a t i n y bit)

“If you want,” Sehun shrugs, and it’s not even antagonistic. It’s not /if you think you need the practice/. Or /I can see through your stupid plan/. “Here?” He gestures, then points to the waiting area door, “On set?”

Zitao rolls his eyes. /Of course/ not on set, what kind of idiot.. “Here. Right now,” he holds his script by the spine and flaps the pages at Sehun. “Hurry up. Get /up./”

With no urgency at all, Sehun obligingly drops his hands to his knees, standing and pushing his torso upright like he’s an old man with a bad back. “What are we practicing? The lines or the actions?”

“Just-“ Zitao tugs him by his elbow, away from the cosy little circle of seats so they’ll have room to move. Zitao doesn’t really /want/ to rehearse their upcoming confrontation scene. What Zitao wants to do is fight with Sehun now, in private, before all this pent up anger spills over in public. He just- he needs to yell at him.

“You’re being confusing.”

Right now.

There’s just something about Sehun that grates on Zitao’s nerves. Always has done ever since he started appearing in Chinese media a year ago. Zitao ignored him easily enough, like he ignores everything below his level, but it was hard not to notice Sehun’s annoying blank face appearing in more and more shared spaces. By Sehun’s third newcomer award it was basically inevitable that they’d end up working together, being similar ages, sought out by the same audiences.

Something like a game show, Zitao had thought. A fashion event. Maybe a reality show, at worst. By the time Zitao had seen enough of Sehun from across venues and after parties to decide he doesn’t like him one bit, the call came. 42 episodes. Zitao is popular right now in his /own/ right for his /own/ work, and knowing Sehun got stuck in a drama with him specifically for the ratings it’d bring is infuriating. He hasn’t even asked Sehun to accompany him to the bathroom when no staff have been available. /That’s/ how much he dislikes him.

“You’re just,” Zitao sputters, so frustrated he doesn’t even know where to start. Their work together has been a massive success, and it’s not only because of the demographic who want to see their faces on screen. Professionally they vibe well. They play off each other well, have good chemistry or whatever you want to call it, and now people think they’re the same. Same level, same journey. It’s not like Sehun even /tries to have some shame in how cosy he likes to appear with Zitao. There’s only one reason guys like Sehun spend time getting close to artists like Zitao. Leeches.

Leaning his shoulders back against the wall, Sehun folds his arms across his chest and shakes his bangs out of his eyes. “I’m what, ge,” he asks, softly spoken and soft mannered like always. “Are we starting from the beginning of the scene or just from the fight?”

“No,” Zitao’s brain supplies helpfully. He prods Sehun hard, just below his collarbone. Sehun watches him between long, slow blinks, and it’s driving Zitao /insane/. He wants to provoke something out of him, but it’s like Sehun’s always half on his way to a nap. “Keep away from me in future,” Zitao decides is a good start, “Unless we’re working.”

It’s honestly only making Sehun 50 times more annoying that he still isn’t even retaliating. Making Zitao look bad, staying all calm and smug. “You’re the one close to me,” he says with no inflection at all. “Is it a problem if I like spending time with you?” He tilts his head, bangs falling back into his eyes. He’s just too damn placid.

And he’s too tall. And he’s /handsome/, more so than any of the other allegedly attractive celebrities that stand next to Zitao and make themselves look barely a weak four. Three days ago they did a photoshoot for a TV guide; next Saturday they’ll be smiling out from the cover, arms around each other’s shoulders. Just remembering makes him want to punch Sehun. Or at least shove him. Or- god, no one has ever bothered Zitao into having this much negative energy before and he doesn’t even really get /why/.

For all the lyrics he’s written, nasty interviewers he’s shut down, hate he’s responded to online, the worst Zitao manages to summon up right now is: “You’re a stupid liar.”

“Are we still playing?” Sehun asks, brows raised. “Tao, if I misread things and have made you uncomfortable then I’m s—“

It’s satisfying that Sehun actually, finally, responds when Zitao startles it out of him, jolting hard at the sound of Zitao’s palm slapping against the wall. Sure not everyone..probably not /many/ professionals, really, would be ready to risk a fight with a costar while they’re at peak popularity. But playing it safe is for cowards. Scaring Sehun is as easy as Zitao pressing his forearm across Sehun’s chest, gripping and twisting the shoulder of his shirt, pinning him in against the wall.

“You’re /annoying/,” Zitao emphasises with a shove that pushes Sehun up onto his toes. “I /know/ why you always wanna spend time with me, and- and..” And Sehun’s not really focusing even with Zitao right here. He’s staring just below the eye contact Zitao is searching for, at Zitao’s mouth. The shock looks hot on his face. It’s not really.. it’s not really a fight or flight reaction. That occurs to Zitao when he swipes his dry lower lip with his tongue and Sehun’s eyes follow it.

“You know?” Sehun’s gaze flicks up and doesn’t linger, dropping straight back to Zitao’s mouth.

Yeah I fucking know, Zitao would say, if this made sense. This isn’t how you react to being called out for being a nasty little fraud. He’s..blushing? Zitao purses his lips, and Sehun starts to chew at his own. It’s.. Oh.

Maybe there’s one other reason Sehun likes spending time getting close to Zitao.


End file.
